Traveling toward Hope and Freedom

When I think about how we decide what matters, how we determine which desires or goals are legitimate and worthy, which are destructive, or simply dumb, I’m struck by the odd confluence of confusing, conflicting theologies surrounding us. Our modern secular religions, often unstated, influence priorities and moral values in unexamined ways.

One theology, biological determinism, or “biodeterminism,”  insists we are no more than the sum of our genes, neurons, and biochemistry, simply acting out the unexplained impulses generated by internal physical processes. Our character and apparent choices are controlled by genetic disposition. We are, in every particular, “born that way”, and thus have no responsibility when we find ourselves eating to excess, drinking destructively, resorting to violence, using force for sexual gratification, compulsively desiring experiences, individuals, objects apparently denied us. We can’t help it. That’s who we are.

Somehow, I missed Richard Dawkin’s highly popular The Selfish Gene when it was first published in 1976. I was busy editing my college newspaper, playing field hockey, juggling two majors. I missed his description of the ways we’re enslaved by the “selfish molecules” that control our behavior:  

Four thousand million years on, what was to be the fate of the ancient replicators? They did not die out, for they are past masters of the survival arts. But do not look for them floating loose in the sea; they gave up their freedom long ago. Now they swarm in huge colonies, safe inside gigantic lumbering robots, sealed off from the outside world, communicating with it by tortuous indirect routes, manipulating it by remote control. They are in you and in me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence. They have come a long way those replicators. Now they go by the name of genes, and we are their survival machines. (The Selfish Gene, 19-20)

 The book was widely discussed, widely quoted, sold over a million copies, and has been translated into more than 25 languages. It was republished to great fanfare in 2006, and continues to serve as the sacred text of bio-determinism. 

While the science of genetic determinism falls consistently short of predicted outcomes, and repeated studies show that genetics influence but in no way determine sexual identity, intelligence, behavior, class, the creed continues to shape our moral dialogue: We are what we are. Change is not possible.

As Dr. Marvin Minsky, professor of cognitive science at M.I.T. explained in 1988:

According to the modern scientific view, there is simply no room at all for freedom of the human will. Everything that happens in our universe is either completely determined by what is already happened in the past or else depends, in part, on random chance. Everything, including that which happens in our brains, depends on these and only on these: A set of fixed, deterministic laws. A purely random set of accidents. (Society of Mind, 306).

Put doubt aside: there is no room for freedom of human will. None.  Everything is fixed.

Specific aspects of biological determinism are eagerly embraced by specific parts of the population: Surely homosexuality and transgender behaviors are genetically determined?  Research has repeatedly failed to discover the long sought “gay gene,” but identity politics holds firmly to the idea that homosexuality is fixed, despite significant evidence to the contrary.

Other aspects of determinism are endorsed or exploited by very different groups:

Male sexual aggression is genetically programmed and unavoidable.

Violence can be traced to a “warrior” gene.

Africa’s difficulties reflect the genetic inferiority of a particular race.

Certain groups live in poverty because they are not as intelligent or genetically gifted as others.

Popular writer Tom Wolfe repeated the creed in a 2002 Duke Commencement address: 

[L]et's not kid ourselves. We're all concatenations of molecules containing DNA, hard wired into a chemical analog computer known as the human brain, which as software has a certain genetic code. And your idea that you have a soul or even a self, much less free will, is just an illusion. . . Your fate is preordained and if we had . . . enough data and sufficient parallel computers, we could predict everything you're going to do, including the fact that within the next 20 seconds you'll touch your forehead.   

In 2011, biologist and cheerleader for the “new atheists”, Jerry Coyne, explained in a USA Today forum:

“Our brains are simply meat computers that, like real computers, are programmed by our genes and experiences to convert an array of inputs into a predetermined output.. . .  The ineluctable scientific conclusion is that although we feel that we're characters in the play of our lives, rewriting our parts as we go along, in reality we're puppets performing scripted parts written by the laws of physics.
--Dr. Jerry Coyne, (biologist, U. of Chicago)  

Do you believe it? Do they?

Studies in epigenetics, brain plasticity, and the ways behavior and experience can shape and reshape both brain and body long past adolescence undermine the foundations of deterministic doctrines.

According to the UK Council for Responsible Genetics:   

Biologists have known for a long time that gene expression is complex and DNA does not determine biology, let alone other characteristics of physical and mental health, behavior and intelligence. Nevertheless, over the years, the deterministic model that genes alone define biology has become enshrined as the prevailing paradigm. . . Why do scientists, with the full knowledge that various aspects of the cellular machinery and the environment work in cohort, continue to apply and propagate the DNA mantra? The motivations may be many, but chief among them is the simplicity of the "DNA is everything" model, and the outside commercial and scientific incentives available for such a focus. The application of DNA ideology has led to a problematic construction of race, sexuality, and intelligence, as seen through a lens of genetic determinism and has fostered the belief that for each of us our physical and mental well-being are pre-programmed and reflect the composition of our individual DNA. This scientific interpretation enhances a sense of inevitability and forecloses efforts at promoting social justice by presenting them as futile.”  

That word, "futile," haunts me. 

During the season of Epiphany, the dark time of the year, I find myself repeating John 1:5: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

What a dark world, when possibility is locked in the grip of invisible genes, when violence, war, infidelity, rape, abuse, addiction, poverty are guaranteed, and any hope of wisdom or grace is simply an illusion.

I think of the wise men, heading off in search of a new king, a new kingdom, drawn to the light of an unexpected star. What constricted world were they hoping to escape? What tyrant gods did they slip past as they traveled?

Matthew’s story tells us of their encounter with ruthless, power-addicted Roman King Herod, of their exchange with tradition-bound Hebrew priests and scribes. Surely there were other constructs they left behind them: idols, kings, brutal practices assuaging lifeless gods.

I find myself wondering about the difficulties of the journey: long, risky passages over barren deserts, cold lonely nights, glaring sun. What doubts distracted them? What marauders threatened their success?

Yet they continued on. And isn’t that the journey of hope? Refusing to live in darkness, insistent on traveling toward the light. Hungry for something beyond “what is.”

I’ve heard, more times than I can count, “This is the way I am.”

Impatient, angry, tempted and twisted by desires, unable to connect with others, unable to focus, unwilling to think, fractured, unforgiving. “It is what it is.” “I am who I am.” “I was born this way.”

I find myself saying: “No.”

Gently, sometimes.

Then with more force: “No.”

We are not bound by our genes, determined by inner chemistry, trapped in a hard-wired narrative that leaves no room for change. We are not puppets of physical laws, unwilling agents of an inhumane agenda.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The refrain of light and freedom echoes through the story of the church.

We were slaves to sin: but set free.

We were slaves to law: set free.

We were slaves to the demands of bodies wired to eat too much, drink too much, reach for all that would destroy us: free.

We want it to be easy. Wave a wand. Say a magic word. But even the magi knew it wasn’t easy. It’s a journey, a long hard journey of obedience, prayer, longing, struggle. Setbacks. Defeat. Wrong turns. Painful encounters.

Good to have fellow travelers pointing us toward the light ahead.

Good to have the witness that’s gone on before, reminding us – the story isn’t over.

The story isn’t written in stone by uncaring, unthinking, selfish genes.

It’s written in love, in struggle, in longing for what's real and true and right

“I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”  

On a long grey day, in a world weighted down with war, poverty, injustice, it's good to remember that change is possible, and to walk in the Light that promises hope and freedom.
   

Journey of the Magi, James Jacques Tissot, 1897, France

This is the third of a series for the new year: "What Matters"

• What Matters
• Learning Compassion
• Traveling Toward Hope and Freedom
• Seeking Justice
• Choosing Life
• Embracing "Conversatio"

Please join the conversation. Your thoughts and experiences in this are welcome.
Look for the "__ comments" link below to leave your comments. 

As Long as It's Real

In Anthropologie, a trendy shop on Lincoln Road, in South Beach, Miami, I heard a catchy anthem for the sovereignty of self:

Say what you say,
Do what you do
Feel what you feel,
As long as it's real.
I said take what you take
And give what you give
Just be what you want,
Just as long as it's real. 

The song, by Brit Lily Allen, came out in 2006, but it’s still getting plenty of radio play. Listen to the repeated chorus a few times and it’s easy to buy the idea: say, do, be what you want, “just as long as it’s real.”

The idea certainly seems harmless enough on a bright breezy day, eating lunch al fresco under the palms that line Lincoln Road, watching the monk parakeets swooping overhead, with all the best a material world has to offer stretched out in every direction.

But come back later to see where that road ends, and review the varied definitions of "wasted". Or wander through Lummus Park, a few short blocks away, and consider how “do what you do” plays itself out in the lives of the drunks and druggies asleep under the sea grape trees, or eating what they find in the trash cans lining Ocean Drive.

Just days before my South Beach travels, a gay friend and I met to talk about faith and practice in a sexually broken, morally confused world. We both expressed deep ambivalence about the challenges of holding clear moral boundaries; both of us care deeply about messages given to younger Christians about sexuality, gender, and holiness, yet have staked out lines on the “slippery slope” in different places, and for different reasons.

“Doesn’t scripture say God gives us the desires of our heart?”

My friend’s question reminded me of all the fairy tales and fables that warn of wishing for the wrong thing, and the repeated moral: be careful what you wish for.  I know that the desires of my own heart have often headed toward dark destinations. Desire allowed to create its own context is more dangerous than we can imagine. If desire is allowed to define us, or define what’s right, we’re in deep deep trouble.

The accurate quote, in part, is this: “Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Take delight in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this.” A few verses later: "Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him."

The only safe desires are those lived out in a place of trusting God, and waiting patiently for him. If our first delight is in God, if our context is trust in him, our deepest desires will be fellowship with him, glory for his name, obedience to his word. Which brings us right back to the question of sovereignty: who gets to decide what’s best for me? Is it me? Or is it God? We are deeply in need of a theology of desire. That “I want” voice we’re all born with gets stronger every time it wins.

I’m reminded of a passage from Lewis’ essay, “The Weight of Glory”:

If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

It’s not that God wants to deprive us, kill our joy, make us lonely, miserable, unfulfilled. It’s that the things we think we want, the people we think we want to be, the fulfillment we look for are far less real, far less grand, than what God has in mind. We have no idea what’s “real” apart from him.

Self and Sovereignty

As I’ve been reading and reflecting this past month, one issue that keeps bubbling up is identity, and the “sovereignty of self.” On a road trip to Cape May I listened to a great seminar by Paul Tripp, “Your Walk with God is a Community Project.” He argues that it takes an intentional, grace-filled community to help us claim and live into our identity in Christ. On our own, we slip into finding our identity in job descriptions, accumulated “stuff,” the fulfillment of desires that lead us farther from who God created us to be.

At the same time, readings in Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest have been highlighting the challenge of identification with Christ, and the call to live as totally new creations, set free from our own desires, our own prejudices, our own preferences and self-indulgences. Today’s reading focused on Galatians 2:20: “I am crucified with Christ.” Until we come to that break with the sovereignty of self, Chambers says, “all the rest is pious fraud. The one point to decide is – will I give up, will I surrender to Jesus Christ, and make no conditions whatever . . . I must be broken from my self-realization . . . The passion of Christianity is that I deliberately sign away my own rights and become a bondslave of Jesus Christ.”

In Eat this Book, Eugene Peterson comes at this same topic from another angle: “We live in an age in which we have all been trained from the cradle to choose for ourselves what is best for us. . . . Our tastes, inclinations, and appetites are consulted endlessly. . . . If the culture does a thorough job on us – and it turns out to be mighty effective with most of us – we enter adulthood with the working assumption that whatever we need and want and feel forms the divine control center of our lives.”

According to Peterson, the kingdom of God has been replaced by the kingdom of self: “My feelings are the truth of who I am. Any thing or person who can provide me with ecstasy, with excitement, with joy, with stimulus, with spiritual connection validates my sovereignty.”

The sovereignty of self works its way out in how we pursue careers or calling, our use, or misuse, of Christian community, our failures in marriage, our self-indulgent parenting. It also shapes our understanding of sexuality. I’ve been wrestling with Mark Yarhouse’s very helpful book, Homosexuality and the Christian. He talks about what he calls the gay script, one rooted firmly in the sovereignty of self:

·         Same-sex attractions signal a naturally occurring or “intended by God” distinction between homosexuality, heterosexuality, and bisexuality

·         Same-sex attractions are the way you know who you “really are” as a person (emphasis on discovery)

·         Same-sex attractions are at the core of who you are as a person.

·         Same-sex behaviour is an extension of that core.

·         Self-actualization (behaviour that matches who you “really are”) of your sexual identity is crucial for your fulfillment. (p48)

This all makes sense if the self is “the authoritative text” (Peterson’s very perceptive term), but for Christians who are willing to submit to the authority of scripture, rather than the authority of self, another script is possible:

·         Same-sex attraction does not signal a categorical distinction among types of person, but is one of many human experiences that are “not the way it’s supposed to be.”

·         Same-sex attractions may be part of your experience, but they are not the defining element of your identity.

·         You can choose to integrate your experiences of attraction to the same sex into a gay identity.

·         On the other hand, you can choose to center your identity around other aspects of your experience, including your biological sex, gender identity, and so on.

·         The most compelling aspect of personhood for the Christian is one’s identity in Christ, a central and defining aspect of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. (p. 51)

These scripts are a helpful way to think about gender and sexual orientation, but give insight into other conditions and desires we struggle with. “I’m just an angry person.” “I just find I need to talk about things. I can’t really help it if sounds like gossip.” At every turn, we’re tempted to the sovereignty of self, "self-actualization" that defies God's call to holiness. At every turn, we can choose to define ourselves according to who we “really are,” or we can find who we really are in our identification with the death and resurrection of Christ.

Am I seeking myself? Or am I seeking Christ? There’s a cost either way, a choice either way, and that choice defines my future. 

There’s a stanza at the end of Eliot’s Journey of the Magi that captures this reality, the death to self and “the old dispensation” that is an essential part of birth in Christ:

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down

This set down

This: were we led all that way for a

Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death.